


the last great american dynasty

by Snoweylily



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: All The Ships, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beating, Doctor Toby Curtis, Down the rabbit hole, Eating Disorders, Episode Fix-it, Episode Related, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Gun Violence, Happy Ending, Hurt Walter O'Brien, Hurt/Comfort, I swear, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Protective Team, Self-Harm, Stabbing, Suicidal Thoughts, Team as Family, cabe is walters father, dad cabe, drugged walter o'brien, father figure cabe gallo, injured walter o'brien, intelligent idiots, protective cabe gallo, protective happy quinn, protective paige dineen, protective sylvester dodd, protective toby curtis, sick walter o'brien, walter o'brien whump, worried cabe gallo, worried team scorpion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27939687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoweylily/pseuds/Snoweylily
Summary: “What's a rabbit hole?”“Dehydration, loss of sense of time, antisocial behavior”.“And how do you avoid that?”“... You avoid it by starting a team like Scorpion”.Walter goes down the rabbit hole during every case, constantly putting himself in dangerous situations, uncaring of the consequences. This is what happens afterwards. A retelling of the series, except this time, his injuries are just that little bit more serious.Or, the one where the team has to stitch Walter up after every episode.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	1. 1 Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> My 35th-ish fic, the first in the Scorpion fandom which is horrendous on my part, being Irish and all, but oh well, here you go: whump!walter galore!
> 
> Fanart [here!](https://snoweylily.tumblr.com/post/636865422897168384/the-last-great-american-dynasty-whats-a)

**1 Pilot**

"Happy, I need you to get me into a Ferrari 458" Walter said as they came to a stop next to the car.

"Force the gas cap open. There's an engine cover emergency release" She quickly replied, and he did as told, "Alright".

"Left-hand side of the engine bay. Pull out the ECM chip".

Quickly moving back around the car, he opened the door and sat in, the engine revving almost immediately. Perfect.

"Can you get that plane about eight feet off the ground?" He asked the pilots.

" _Eight feet?_ " He could hear the barely concealed panic in the man's voice, "What for?"

"Can't risk missing the wireless signal again, so we're gonna have to hardwire it into the computer".

Paige gave him a disbelieving look, "You're the world's smartest computer guy and this comes down to _plugging something in?_ "

What could he say, the best solutions were often the simplest.

"How exactly do you plan on doing this?" the pilot asked again.

"We're gonna be driving 200 miles an hour underneath you".

" _What?!_ " Paige exclaimed.

"Yea".

"You'll only have seven seconds to receive that file" He replied, "Any longer, we're not gonna get this plane back up, and we _will_ crash".

"On top of us?"

"That will _not_ happen" Walter said, "… Most likely. Do it in one minute".

"Roger that. Good luck".

* * *

"You- You expect me to sit in this car while a plane is right over us?" Paige demanded as he walked around the car.

"No, you're gonna be standing up through the sunroof".

"Oh, _okay_. Alright, okay, _okay_ ".

She was panicking.

"You- You're gonna have to trust me now" Walter said, "I will _not_ let anything happen to you. You're the one that said you wanted to save everyone… This is our _only_ chance".

She studied him carefully for a minute and he briefly wondered what he'd do if she said no. But then steely determination passed over her face and she nodded, once.

Smirking, he quickly ran back to the driver's side and got in. There was no time for seatbelts, despite how he predicted this was going to end, and the second both doors were shut, he floored it.

"Oh my God!" Paige exclaimed as the tires squealed around a sharp bend.

"You ready?"

"No!"

"Hit the roof panel" He said anyway.

"No-"

" _Hit the roof panel!_ "

"Okay, okay-"

"Do it _now!_ "

Paige hit it with both hands and it went flying off. Within the seconds the plane was above them and he quickly changed gears, relishing in the power of the Ferrari surrounding him.

She jumped out of her seat when she saw the plane lower just above them.

"Oh my God. _Oh my God!_ "

He _really_ needed to tell her about the probability of deities after all of this.

"Alright" She resolved herself, half-standing as the co-pilot tried to lower the cable.

"Come on! You got to reach it!"

"I _can't_ reach it!"

"Come on, reach for it. Just _try!_ "

"Okay!"

_Did neither of these people have a brain?!_

"Drop the cable!" Walter demanded, "Drop it now!"

"Come on, you got to get it! Now! _Reach!_ "

"I got it!" Paige yelled, quickly pulling down the yellow cable to plug it into the laptop.

" _I got it!_ Okay, it's in. It's downloading, _it's downloading!_ "

He changed gears once more, "What's it say?"

"I don't know, uh, a few seconds; it needs a few seconds!"

"We're running out of road" He warned.

"Still loading! Just a few seconds! Almost! Oh, no, no! _No, no!_ "

"No, no, no, no, no! _No, hold on!_ " He yelled.

"Walter! _Walter!_ It's done!"

"Hold on! _Hold on to it!_ "

"It's going!"

He slammed on the brakes.

"Got it! _Look out!_ "

He'd braked too late.

* * *

Everything seemed to slow down as Walter worked out their chances for survival.

Ferrari 458, 4.5-litre V8 engine, approximately 1565 kilograms which was 3450 pounds, minus one hard-top convertible roof. Two-door Berlinetta, longitudinal rear mid-engine rear-wheel drive.

Next to him, Paige started screaming.

_Chances of survival: 69%_

100 to 0 kilometres, or 62 to 0 miles, in 32.5 meters which means 200 miles, or 322 kilometres to nought in 104.8 meters. Current speed decreasing at an inefficient rate to avoid the end of the runway approximately 70 meters ahead. Front-impact airbags designed to protect the head during a frontal crash.

They were going to hit the barrier.

_Chances of survival: 41%_

Stability control preventing loss of control but not slowing down. Seatbelts designed to place the occupant in the optimal seating position during a collision.

They weren't wearing seatbelts.

_Chances of survival: 19%_

Anti-lock brakes increased vehicle ability to turn while stopping. Side impact airbags designed to protect the torso during a side-impact collision. Head-on collision death rate 58% for all frontal occupants. Side collision death rate 80% for the side-impact occupant.

_But not for Paige._

* * *

Mouth pressed in a grim line of determination, Walter jerked the steering wheel to the right, the perfect two-point turn in his last two-minutes on Earth.

The tires screamed and rubber burned.

Paige braced her hands on the windscreen and closed her eyes.

Walter watched as the barrier came ever closer, fascinated by the thought of death.

* * *

When a vehicle is hit on the side by another vehicle, the crumple zones of the striking vehicle will absorb some of the kinetic energy of the collision.

The crumple zones of the struck vehicle may also absorb some of the collision's energy, particularly if the vehicle is struck on the driver's side.

Crashing side-first into a wall had more or less the same effect.

The side-impact airbag exploded faster than the one in the front, deploying against his head and chest as the impact wrenched him against the buckled door. He felt himself get tossed about in the seat like a ragdoll, vision blurring as dizziness and nausea took over. His neck was thrown forward before gravity yanked it back and the 52-second impact he counted felt like it lasted a lifetime.

* * *

It was strangely silent after the crash.

* * *

Walter knew that wasn't scientifically possible; the plane was still above them, the air tower workers had to be cheering by now, and there were likely sirens in the distance as well.

But right now, he couldn't hear anything above the ringing in his ears.

Next to him, Paige had stopped screaming too.

The world was held in blissful suspension for a split second, and then everything sped up once more.

Paige scrambled at the door handle and half-fell out of her seat, throwing up whatever diner food she'd eaten that morning.

Walter slowly turned to face her, something sticky dripping down his forehead and a stiffness in his neck.

She was unharmed, if a little shaken, the passenger side of the Ferrari completely spotless in comparison to his.

And despite everything, Walter couldn't help but laugh.

_Chances of survival: 100%_

* * *

An hour later, after the wrecked car was towed away and the rest of the team arrived and he'd reluctantly let some fifty-something-year-old paramedic put a bandage on his forehead and his arm in a sling, Gallo arrived.

Walter slowly stood, ignoring Happy's hovering hands and Toby's worried look, and met the man half-way.

"Deal's a deal" Cabe said, handing him a stack of envelopes.

He sighed and stared at them for a moment.

"Paige… she deserves a share".

"I'll see to it" He replied, "... When we worked together, that didn't pan out the way either of us wanted. I was hoping, moving forward, things could be different".

"Moving forward?"

"I came to L.A. to start a strategic response team. At any given time, we deal with everything from stolen nukes to missing kids to counterfeit cash so good it can collapse our economy in less than a _month_ " Cabe answered, "The bad guys are getting smarter. And I can't train my agents to think like _you_ do. I have the full resources of the U.S. government. I need your help… and I think you and your team need a home".

Well, he couldn't argue with that.

Walter couldn't help but smirk as he awkwardly shoved the envelopes under his bad arm and held out the note Sylvester had agreed to write for him.

"Here".

"Fixed salaries, cars, research lab… You saw this coming".

There was something akin to pride in the agent's eyes.

"It was your only logical move".

Gallo smiled.

"I would offer to shake your hand, but…"

Walter sighed and glanced down at the dark blue sling he'd been forced into. Cabe was frowning at it too.

"I heard you got quite the bang".

He hummed, "Yea, well, I don't have a kid waiting for me at home. Minor whiplash and a fractured radius were a small price to pay to guarantee her survival".

"And you say you don't have feelings".

"I don't" Walter quickly agreed, "It was simple math. A head-on collision would have injured both of us, possibly fatally. A side impact would just injure me".

"Keeping a perfect stranger safe" Cabe finished, "That kind of judgement call is _exactly_ why I need your team".

He turned to walk away, and Walter smiled as he returned to the others.

* * *

"Okay, lips are parted, leaning slightly forward" Toby started, " _You_ have something to tell us".

"… He offered us jobs".

"Me too?"

"We're a team, aren't we?"

They grinned and he couldn't help but look around for Paige.

"The waitress just left to bring her son home".

Toby answered his unspoken question.

"You just missed her".

Walter merely nodded in response.

It gave him a good excuse to see her again, after all.

 _After_ he found a box of Tylenol.


	2. 2 Single Point of Failure

**2 Single Point of Failure**

"Spread out! We need to find the governor!" Walter yelled as they rushed through the shopping mall.

They immediately split up, Happy to the second floor, Gallo and his men to the left, and Walter and Paige to the right. Sylvester remained on the ground floor, spinning around in confusion.

"I got nothing up here!"

"Ditto that in the... rotunda".

"Lower level's clear".

"Okay, okay" Toby started over the comms, "Think about how this would go down. He sees the police and knows it's got to happen fast but private".

The radio buzzed and crackled.

"Toby, anything?"

"He wouldn't wait in the open. Not with all the police. Someplace in here, but someplace quiet... Side hallways maybe" He explained, before suddenly, "I found Richter!"

"We're on our way" Walter replied, running flat out through the mall.

"He's moving towards the target".

"I got eyes on him!" He said, "Cabe, if he even gets close, Governor Lane is _dead!_ "

Gallo nodded, " _Homeland Security!_ _Don't move!_ "

Richter lunged at the governor as he pulled an old aerosol canister out of his pocket. Walter froze as he tried to figure out what to do. Cabe tackled the man to the floor, Lane threw up his hands and stumbled back, and they all caught sight of the innocent-looking chemical particles in the air.

"He expelled the virus! It'll be aerosolized in-"

"Ten seconds!" Sylvester finished, "Based on where the governor is standing, the interior wind patterns and s-scattergrams!"

Walter jumped into action, pulling a can of flammable furniture polish out of a nearby cleaning cart, and then all but throwing himself at the security guards' desk to grab the cigarette lighter.

"Now, you have seven seconds".

_Helpful as ever, Sly._

"You can't do that!" the security guard yelled.

It was easy to ignore her.

"What are you doing?"

Paige, not so much.

"Making it rain".

"What?"

"It'll take down the virus, too" He quickly explained, shaking the canister before flicking the lighter.

" _Two second_ s, Walter!" Sylvester announced.

There was a hiss, and then-

_Rain_.

All around him, the crowd gasped and swore and clamoured over one another to escape the sudden rainstorm. He blinked the water out of his eyes and kept the impromptu fire in front of the sprinklers until the chemicals in the air dissipated.

* * *

And then the canister exploded.

* * *

Walter automatically threw the can away from him as he jerked back, losing his balance on the now water-covered desk. He spun, futilely trying to regain his footing, but slipped, raising both arms to protect his head as he fell.

He hit the ground, _hard_ , but grateful none-the-less that he hadn't smashed into the desk opposite.

Just the cold unforgiving floor.

* * *

"Walter!"

He blinked, slowly, and took stock of his body.

He hadn't hit his head, which was good, and the linoleum was far more forgiving than concrete would have been, so he hadn't broken anything either. No sprains, from what he could tell, but he would _definitely_ have bruises tomorrow.

" _Walter!_ " Paige repeated, crouching down next to him, hands hovering uselessly over his prone frame.

He carefully lowered his arms.

"Are you okay?!"

"I… I think so" He replied, trying to sit up.

The second his hands touched the floor, fire raised up and down his skin.

Walter swore and yanked his hands off the wet lino.

"What's wrong?"

Using his elbows to push him up instead, he shook his head against the sprinklers and stared down at his palms.

From fingertips to wrists, his skin was _scalded._

"Oh my _God!_ " Paige exclaimed, her own hands raising to her mouth in shock.

Walter stared at his blistering arms, feeling strangely numb. Each drop of water landed and sizzled and distantly, in the back of his mind where science ruled and not much else, he realised that this was _not_ good.

"The aerosol can" She realised, "The fire from the lighter, it must have… it must have backfired".

"Pressure build-up" He explained dazedly, "The molecules move faster in higher temperatures, and if the absolute degrees double or more, the pressure turns liquid to gas and it has nowhere to go… _Boom_ ".

* * *

"Walter?"

They both glanced up as Sylvester appeared on the other side of the desk, worry and panic clear in his expression.

"Are you alright? I saw you fall".

He quickly shoved both hands underneath his arms and forced himself not to wince.

"I'm fine, Sly. How's the governor?"

"He's fine too" He replied, clearly not convinced.

Paige frowned and turned to him, "How do we know this worked?"

"Well, if it didn't" Walter replied, lips twisting with dark humour, "He'd be _dead_ by now".

She studied him for a moment before turning back to Sylvester.

"Hey, Sly, will you get Toby for me? My earpiece isn't working with the sprinklers".

Which was complete and utter _bullshit_ considering that they were waterproof, but the youngest of the team was too harried to remember that, and quickly hurried off.

"Toby?"

"For your hands" She replied, "Something tells me geniuses don't like hospitals".

Walter allowed himself to grimace as he lowered his hands again, but nodded.

"You need help getting up?"

_Probably_ , he thought.

"No. I'm fine" He said instead.

" _Clearly_ ".

He ignored her sarcastic remark and awkwardly got to his feet, trying his best not to slip again as the sprinklers continued to rain down on them. A security guard, the same woman who'd yelled at him earlier, pushed a damp chair towards him with a small smile. He gratefully sank down into it, careful not to let the red skin on his hands touch anything.

The governor was standing a few feet away, looking rather lost. When he caught sight of them, he took an unsteady step forward.

"… He said he had an antidote".

"No, sir. We already sent the antidote for your daughter" Walter replied, " _He_ was trying to kill you".

* * *

"What's up? Sly said you asked for me and based on your stance, it's injury-related" Toby said, appearing around their side of the desk.

"Not for me" Paige replied, stepping to the side.

His gaze landed on Walter's half-drowned figure, and then on his ever-reddening hands.

Toby gave a low whistle.

"What happened, 197?"

"… Furniture polish" He reluctantly admitted, "The lighter did its job _too_ efficiently".

He hummed knowingly and pulled up the other chair. Paige watched with interest as he managed to examine Walter's hands without actually touching him. It was obvious that he'd stitched the younger man up in the past, and she wasn't sure whether she should be worried about that fact, or just relieved that there _was_ someone who could heal him without causing any contact-related distress.

"Alright buddy, it's not as bad as it looks, but it's gonna sting like a _bitch_ for the next few days".

"That your professional opinion, doc?"

"Only the best for you, genius" He winked, before turned back to the still-fretting Sylvester.

"Hey, Super Fun Guy, go find Happy and tell her to bring a first aid box, will you? And, Paige, try and find some sort of bucket or basin, and then call Gallo, let him know what happened?"

" _Toby_ -"

"If the next words out of your mouth aren't 'thank you very much' Walt, I'll punch you".

He opened his mouth, shut it, and then sighed.

"There we go" Toby teased, "Silence is a good look on you; you should try it more often".

"We need to get back to work".

"We just finished a case. A _big_ one. At least let the girl live first, yea?"

"But there's paperwork and-"

"-and Paige takes care of all of that, anyway, so _shush. Besides,_ you're not going to be writing _anything_ for a good two weeks".

"I have projects that-"

"That can wait".

"But-"

"No".

"Toby-"

" _No!_ "

"I-"

"What did I just say?"

Walter shut his mouth with an audible *click* and narrowed his eyes at the smirking doctor.

"You just saved the governor, kid. _Relax_ ".

"Don't call me kid".

"You're thirteen months younger than me, 197, what else should I call you?"

Walter sighed again and then leant back fully into the now soaking-wet chair. Toby grinned with the satisfaction of knowing he'd won.

"… Can I at least still type?"

_Or maybe not._

* * *

"Hey" Happy panted, rushing towards them, "Sly told me what happened, you alright?"

"He fought a cleaning can" Toby said before anyone else could reply, "The cleaning can won".

She slapped him over the back of his head before handing him a small red box.

"Thanks" Walter said and she smiled, "Anytime".

"You're all conspiring against me" He muttered, rifling through the first aid kit, " _Traitors_ ".

Paige reappeared soon after with a small plastic container in her hands.

"I kind of stole it from someone's desk" She explained, "It was used to hold paperclips".

"As long as it works" Toby shrugged.

He reached under the security guard's desk and pulled out a twelve-pack of water, ripping it open and uncapping a bottle before upturning it in the container.

"Saw this earlier. It's not gonna be _fun_ , but it's the best I can do. Unless, of course, you want to-"

" _No hospitals!_ " Walter and Sly both interrupted.

Happy smirked and gracefully sat down on the floor next to Walt's chair, leaning her cheek against his legs. Paige was surprised that he accepted the touch, and more than a little jealous, if she was being honest with herself. But then again, the rest of the team had known Walter far longer than she had, so they had probably figured out his boundaries by now.

Her theory was only further confirmed when Sylvester wedged himself into the gap between the desk and the back of the chair, Walter immediately leaning back so his head rested against the younger man's stomach.

Toby was after donning disposal gloves and gently pulled his patient's hands onto his lap so he could examine them more closely.

They looked like… well… a _family_.

* * *

Paige felt a sudden stab of longing, and then jumped when the phone in her pocket buzzed.

A quick glance at the screen showed it to be a text message.

"Agent Gallo's on his way" She announced, "He's handed off Richter to the local PD to deal with, so he should be back in ten, fifteen minutes, max".

Walter groaned, "Why did we call him, again?"

"Because he's a protective mama bear and _you're_ his favourite cub" Toby replied cheerfully.

"… You know, I'd hit you if I didn't think it'd hurt so much".

Happy kicked him in the shins instead.

"Thanks".

"Like I said. _Anytime_ ".

Toby glared at them, but the dark look only lasted a moment before it turned strangely apologetic. He put the water-filled container on top of a roll of bandaged on his lap, and then held Walter's hands above it.

"Alright, 197, this is where things get nasty".

"They weren't bad before?" Sylvester asked faintly, but the rest of the team ignored him.

"I gotta put your hands in water, okay? It's gonna be a shock, then it's gonna feel nice and cooling, and _then_ comes the fun stuff. You see this white pattern?"

They all nodded.

"That's a second-degree burn. The rest of your skin got off pretty lightly, but this… this is gonna _hurt_ , kid" He finished, "Especially when I apply the OTC antibiotic".

Walter took a deep breath, seeming to steel himself, before nodding, once.

"You sure? The hospital, at least, would have pain killers-"

"Just do it".

Happy put a hand lightly on his leg, and Walter gave her a small smile. Paige felt like an outsider looking in.

"Alright then. On three. One-"

He pressed both hands into the water.

" _MOTHERFU-_ "

Paige jumped.

Walter immediately bit down on his tongue to cut off the yell, head turning to bury his face against his shoulder.

Happy's squeezed his leg reassuringly and Toby muttered an apology but kept both hands submerged.

After a few long seconds, Walter turned back, jaw clearly tensed in pain.

"You are one lying _bastard_ , Curtis. On three, my _ass!_ "

"The anticipation would have made it ten times worse" He replied calmly.

Walter swore, again.

Paige couldn't help but stare at him in shock.

Sylvester was the only one who seemed to notice, and he gave her a tight smile.

"Walt tends to… loosen his tongue, when he's… in pain".

"… How often has he been in pain for you guys to _realise_ that?"

"More times than I can count" Happy replied breezily, "But you don't need to look so worried, there's always a certain level of danger that comes with genius. How many times have you put butterfly plasters on Ralph?"

"That… is a good point, actually".

"Yea, well, it's the same for us. Too curious for our good, I suppose. But _Walter_ here, takes it to a _whole_ new level".

"Like you're one to talk" He replied tightly, mouth pulled in a painful grimace, "How many times has Toby had to clean motor oil out of your papercuts?"

"Less times than he's had to clean whiteboard marker out of _yours!_ "

* * *

The doctor in question actually ignored the bickering for once, and carefully removed Walter's hands from the now red-tinted water. Above them, the sprinkler system was continuing to rain down, but he still tried to dry off the burnt skin as much as possible, wincing every time Walter did.

"Okay, now's the hard part" He muttered, and Paige's fingers twitched with her urge to do something, to help them, to feel like she belonged in the close-knit team of geniuses.

Toby suddenly glanced over at her.

"… You want to help?"

Whether he knew what she was thinking by some behavioural psychology mumbo jumbo give away, or _magic_ , she wasn't sure.

"Yes".

Either way, she was grateful.

"Cool. Distract him".

"What?"

He nodded at Walter who had gone back to staring off into the distance.

"This next part's gonna sting. I need you to distract him".

" _How?!_ "

"I don't know, use that tiny brain of yours and figure it out!"

This time, he didn't even flinch from Happy's kick.

"Okay. _Okay_. Distraction. Right. I can do that. I can-"

Paige cut off her rambling, took a deep breath and walked around Toby's seat to face the fourth smartest man in the world.

"Hey, um, Walter, can you, uh, I don't know, can you… can you do long division?"

He blinked, eyes slowly focusing on her.

"What?"

"Long division" She repeated quickly, "In your head? Can you- Can you divide, uh, divide 437 by- by 29!"

"You're asking me to do long division? _Seriously?_ "

"… You mean you _can't?_ "

From the corner of her eye, she saw Toby dab a strange smelling white cream on the worst of the burns, and a stab of pain flashed through the genius's eyes.

"I could recite the fucking _Fibonacci sequence_ to the _one-millionth power_ when I was _three!_ " Walter bit out, "And you're asking if I can do _long division?!_ "

"Alright, _fine_ " She snapped, "Name three actors who won an Oscar last year".

He actually blanked, glare falling away from the pure surprise of not knowing something, and both Toby and Happy smirked.

"Three… _actors?_ "

"Or actresses" Paige allowed, "Someone that won an Oscar".

"… Christopher Reeve?"

"He's been dead for over ten years now, but good try".

Walter turned back to her, genuinely shocked.

"Superman's dead?"

_Of course_ that's how he knew of him.

"Do you remember when he fell off that horse?"

"Yea. He was… paralysed, right? It was on the news".

"Well, he remained _mostly_ paralysed until about a decade ago and then he had a heart attack. Some sort of allergic reaction to an antibiotic, apparently".

Toby made a subtle gesture for her to keep talking.

"But, uh, the- the _new_ superman movie, have you- have you seen that?"

"There's a new movie?"

"With Henry Cavill? It came out a few months ago, 'Man of Steel'?"

"It was the highest-grossing Superman film ever made" Sylvester added helpfully, "It wasn't as good as 'Superman II' but it had its highlights".

"We'll have to watch it sometime" Happy continued, "Between the four of us, I'm sure we can find a site to download a copy".

"Is that you I hear promoting _illegal_ _activities_ , Quinn?"

* * *

They all turned, minus Toby, to see a harried-looking Agent Gallo head in their direction.

"No sir" She replied innocently, "You must be hearing things in your old age".

" _Hmm_. I think I preferred you breaking the law".

His suit, which had started to dry outside, was now darkening under the water from the sprinklers. Cabe rounded the desk and stood there with his hands on his hips, frowning at the sight before him.

"… Dare I ask?"

"The furniture polish plan backfired" Paige explained, "Quite _literally_ ".

As if suddenly remembering why they were all hovering together under the impromptu rain shower, Walter winced and tried to pull away from Toby's grip.

"Ah, ah, _ah!_ We're almost there!" He quickly said, tightening his hold, "I just need to bandage some parts of your hands and we're done".

He gave Paige a pointed look, and she immediately turned back to Walter.

"Hey, do you think Gallo can name three actors who won an Oscar last year?"

"I honestly think I'll be worried if he _can_ ".

She glanced over at the agent and made a small gesture for him to continue the distraction.

Cabe nodded back just as subtly, stepping forward until he could lean back against the desk next to her.

"Three actors, huh?"

"Or actresses".

"Hmm... Matthew McConaughey, Jared Leto, and… Adruitha Lee".

They all stared at him.

Walter blinked.

"… What is _happening_ right now?"

Gallo shrugged, "The 'Dallas Buyers Club'. It was a good movie".

"I…"

He blinked again, thoroughly distracted, and Paige smiled.

"Anddddd _done!_ " Toby announced, pulling off the plastic gloves, "You're good to go kid".

"Don't call me kid" He replied automatically, mind still elsewhere.

Toby ignored him, and instead turned to Cabe, "The 'Dallas Buyers Club'? Really? _You?_ "

"Like I said, it was a good movie".

"Your posture states otherwise".

Happy patted Walter's knee one last time before standing up and stretching with a groan.

"Maybe we should add it to the list. Team movie night or something?"

"It's not PG".

"So?"

"So, we can't watch it with Ralph" Walter replied, carefully flexing his fingers with a grimace, "You said _team_ movie night".

Paige's smile widened as the so-called _unfeeling_ genius made an effort to include her son. Next to her, Cabe's mobile rang and he walked away to answer it.

"Alright 197, then what do _you_ suggest?" Toby asked, tidying up the first aid kit.

He shrugged, "I don't know… 'Frozen'?"

Everyone stilled.

Sylvester frowned.

"Somehow I find your knowledge of _that_ movie more worrisome than Gallo being able to name _three Oscar winners_ ".

* * *

He half-heartedly glared but couldn't hide his wince as he stood.

"You okay?" Paige asked, quickly standing in case he need help.

"Wait for it" Toby muttered.

"I'm fine".

"There it is!" He finished, dodging Happy's head slap, "Okay, okay, _I'll stop!_ In all seriousness, though, I'll need to change those bandages pretty often".

"For how long?"

"Until the blisters have healed. Could be two or three days… Could be two or three weeks".

Walter grimaced but didn't reply, somewhat awkwardly holding his hands away from his side as Sylvester joined them on the other side of the security desks.

"Can we leave now? Because, you know, the water in sprinkler systems is actually _full_ of bacteria and we've been standing in it long enough".

As if some higher power heard his remark, the sprinkler's abruptly cut off. Walter glanced up and smirked, and Paige was relieved to see some of the tension leave his shoulders.

"Yea. We can go".

They turned as Gallo walked back over to them, phone returning to his pocket.

"Good news. That was the governor calling; the antidote the CDC synthesized is working. Helena's fever broke, and we're getting reports of the same from the other victims".

"That's good to hear" Walter replied, but Cabe's worried gaze remained on him

Paige didn't need a psychology degree to figure out what the agent wanted.

"Hey, guys, why don't we see if we can get a taxi or something?"

"Sure" Toby agreed, obviously having caught on as well, "Come on Sly, the fresh air will get rid of those nasty sprinkler bacterium".

Happy nodded, "It's been a while since I hotwired something. Let's check out the car park".

* * *

Walter remained behind, recognising Gallo's hovering for what it was, and he watched the team disappear out of sight before turning to the man.

"You going to be alright?"

"I'm fi-"

" _Don't_ " He warned, "This is _me_ you're talking to, son".

Cabe's eyes were as piercing as ever.

Walter sighed and looked down at his bandaged hands.

"… I have to wear these oven mitts for the next few days, and I'm going to bruised and stiff tomorrow. Asides from that, I'm _fine_ ".

"You saved the governor. _And_ his daughter".

"My team did, not just me. I couldn't have done it without them".

Gallo's eyes searched his for another minute before giving a small smile and clapping him on the shoulder.

"Alright. Good to hear. Now come on, we better catch up with them before I have to read Happy her rights because _that_ won't end well for anyone".


	3. 3 A Cyclone

**3 A Cyclone**

"I can't defuse this" Happy said, examining the bomb under torchlight.

"We're down to 3:40, 39, 38…" Walter chimed, but she shook her head.

"This wiring is all jerry-rigged, pure guerilla IED thinking. _Anything_ could trip it".

He continued to pace back and forth.

"Well, if we don't run now, _we're_ dead; if we _do_ run now, everyone else left in the building is dead, so... any ideas?"

"If it were 1840, we could drop it down a well".

"What about the roof?"

"No time".

_"Wait!"_ She suddenly said, "Janitor supplies. Joint compound. This bomb's gonna blow, but... we can lessen the impact!"

He quickly started gathering supplies.

"If this, uh, janitor likes his grub salty, we might be able to mute the bomb" Happy continued, "Salt speeds up the hardening process, but you gotta mix it in thoroughly".

"Ah! Haha! Salt packets! We're in business".

Walter could only hope that Paige and Toby got out safely, cause the chances of this happening in time were… not good.

"If this works, the blast will take out the garage, but save the building".

He quickly checked his watch.

"... We're down to a minute 30".

"Here we go" Happy said, carefully lifting the bomb and setting into their make-shift plaster. It began to sink, slowly but surely.

"If the salt works, it should harden pretty quick. It'll mute the blast enough to contain damage to this garage" She continued, "If it's _not_ stirred until it's hard as a rock, it won't mute anything".

Well, that settled it then.

Walter pulled at his tie to loosen it.

"Happy, you gotta go find Paige and Toby. Get 'em out of the building. You got about a minute left".

The choking strip of fabric finally came undone and he quickly picked up the wooden stick.

"I run when you do".

"Do it _now_ , okay?" He snapped, "I'm right behind you".

She studied him closely for a moment, clearly recognising his lie for what it was, but also knew he could be stubborn as hell when he wanted to.

"You better be".

* * *

He continued to stir the concrete salt mixture, grunting as it thickened and it became more and more difficult to bury the bomb. The first bead of sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes, the red light of the flickering detonator mocking him with every beep.

It was covered enough to save the building by now, but not the garage. Walter knew that he couldn't save it, not really, and he only had forty seconds left to get out of there… but this was also the only room that had any evidence of who the bomber was.

He swore and glanced at his watch.

Thirty-four seconds.

He knew that the human body could survive relatively high blast overpressure without experiencing barotrauma, but he also quite liked his blood _inside_ his body and _not_ pouring out of his ears.

This much plastique, even with the blast muted, would undoubtedly be enough to kill him, but he had to get that evidence.

Twenty-eight seconds.

Walter swore once more as the wood firmly got stuck in the now solid concrete. It was time to go. But he still needed that report.

Lunging for his laptop, he quickly unplugged it and then untucked his shirt to stuff it underneath. The flimsy fabric would do nothing in the long run, but he knew he was too late to get out completely unscathed, and _any_ bit of protection at all would mean the difference between them having nothing, and them having enough of that report to put Keeler away for a long, _long_ time.

He started running.

* * *

"We have seconds to get clear!" Happy yelled as she saw Paige and Toby up ahead. She felt a brief stab of panic as she realised he was stumbling, and quickly threw one arm over her shoulder to speed things up.

"One in front of the other, _dimwit_. In half a minute, this building goes!"

"Where's Walter?" Paige asked, panicking.

"He's coming" She reassured, "He promised".

_Sort of._

They made it a safe distance away and turned back to wait for Walter.

_Any minute now…_

Happy glanced at her watch.

There were less than ten seconds before the bomb went off.

"He'll get out. He knows the time left".

She didn't know if she was trying to convince them or herself.

_Come on, come on, come on-_

**_BOOM_**.

They all jerked back as the bomb exploded, smoke billowing out, lifting dust and dirt and sending plumes of thick grey smog into the air.

Walter wasn't there.

Happy felt her knees buckle and she quickly bent over, hands on legs, trying to steady herself. Toby had one hand on Paige's shoulder, the other half reaching out as if their resident idiot was going to magically appear.

If the explosion hadn't killed Walter, Happy decided, then _she_ was going to kill him herself.

The crowd around them were still screaming, everyone's ears ringing and sirens being more and more clear in the distance.

But still no sign of Walter.

"Screw this" Toby suddenly said, stepping forwards.

Happy quickly put a hand on his arm to stop him and he turned to her, furious.

"Do you _seriously_ think you can _stop_ me from-"

"I'm _not_ trying to" She snapped, "But you're already _injured_ , moron! _I'm_ going".

"You can't-"

"Paige, take care of him".

* * *

She took off without another word, raising her hand against the dust and dirt that still swirled around her, desperately trying to see through the darkness.

"WALTER!"

She coughed into her jacket, and then quickly shrugged it off to press it against her face. She could breathe more easily immediately but still couldn't see much in the greyish brown air.

"WALTER!"

The lights in the tunnel were still, somehow, miraculously working, and once she reached about halfway in, the dust started clearing too.

Happy squinted and headed in what she hoped was the direction of the garage.

If that idiot had stayed behind on _purpose_ …

Her thoughts were abruptly cut off as she tripped over something.

Swearing, she spun back around and crouched down. It was likely just a piece of debris from the blast, warped metal or planks of wood, but then-

But then why did it look familiar?

Lowering her jacket, she started coughing again as she reached out to pick the rectangular shape up. The top of it was burning hot, but she pushed away the stinging sensation as she suddenly realised what it was.

_Walter's laptop._

Happy froze before immediately scrambling back to her feet and looking around almost frantically.

"WALTER!"

The hot putrid air was making her eyes water, but she couldn't give up now, not when she was so close.

" _WALTER!_ "

She stopped.

Was that-

There was another wheezing breath.

_Walter_.

* * *

Spinning around, Happy cursed herself for not bringing her flashlight as she ran towards the sound. It was him, it _had_ to be, it was his laptop and his _stupidity_ and-

"Oh my God".

He was on the ground, half propped up against the tunnel wall, paint blistering and peeling off around him from the heat. There was soot and dust covering his hair, his face, his clothes, _everything_. There was blood staining his forehead and cheek, still sluggishly pulsing from a wound at his hairline, and his shirt was completely untucked and slightly torn.

He gave another cough, half choked and strangely wet, and Happy leapt into action.

"Come on, Walt, you gotta get up".

Laptop in one hand, she slung his arm over her shoulders and wrapped her other hand around his far too skinny waist. She managed to get to her feet, but despite his lightness, he was still almost an entire foot taller than her. Cursing, she leant back against the burning wall for a moment, chest tightening from all the smoke.

_Okay_.

What was it that she had said to Toby?

_Oh yea._

"One in front of the other, dimwit".

Walter groaned lowly, head turned to the side, and she shook him as gently yet firmly as possible.

"Come on, man. Get those legs working. I can't carry you".

"… 'ppy?"

She gave a sigh of relief.

"Yea, Walt, it's me. Think you can walk?"

He slowly blinked, blood dripping into his right eye and causing him to wince.

"'aptop?"

"I have it" She reassured, straightening up, "Let's go".

* * *

It took a long few minutes before they found the entrance of the tunnel again, Happy all but collapsing under the weight of both Walter and the laptop, and the man himself half stumbling half falling the entire way.

Finally, they made it back outside, and she could have cried in relief when Toby and Paige caught sight of them and rushed over.

"What happened?!" Paige demanded, taking the laptop from her and gently removing Walter's arm from her shoulders.

"Idiot got caught in the blast" She panted, "He was collapsed a few meters in. Went back for that _stupid_ laptop!"

Toby caught Walter as he staggered, still blinking blurrily, movements slow and uncoordinated.

" _Hey_ , 197, buddy, can you look at me?"

He sluggishly did as told.

"... 'oby?"

"Hey kid, how are you feeling?"

Between the three of them, they started dragging him further away from the tunnel to where the first of the ambulances had arrived.

"…No'good".

"I'll say. Dizzy? Nauseous? Weird tingling in your fingers?"

He nodded, and then suddenly stopped, a blank look coming over his features.

" _Bushes!_ " Toby yelled, hauling him towards them.

They barely made it in time before Walter collapsed to his knees and threw up.

Happy made a face and stepped back, but Paige was well used to cleaning up after sick children and rubbed his back reassuringly.

Toby grimaced.

"Yep. That's grade one smoke inhalation right there. The knock on that head of his hasn't helped, either".

"M'ead 'urts".

"I know buddy. Just hang in there, the doctors will be here soon" He replied, making a subtle gesture at Happy. She nodded and took off, making a straight line towards the crowd of paramedics parked at the side of the road.

"Don't want doctors" Walter complained, " _You're_ a doctor".

"I'm also in _need_ of a doctor. Trust me, kid, you don't want my shaking hands going _anywhere_ near that head wound right now".

Walter frowned and glanced up at him, eyes squinted and ash mixing with the blood on his face.

"You're 'urt?"

"Bloody nose and a minor concussion. I'll be fine".

"An'… An' Paige?"

"I'm _fine_ , Walter" She said softly, crouching down next to him, "And so is Happy and the others. You're the worst injured… as usual".

He continued to frown but slowly sat back on the cool concrete, eyes less glazed than before.

She glanced up as Happy returned, a man dressed in white in tow.

"Will you let the doctors look at you now?"

Walter shook his head and then winced.

"Toby. _Toby's_ m'doctor".

He sighed, before stiffly sitting down on the ground next to him.

"Okay 197, you listening?"

He blinked.

"I _can't_ be your doctor right now. So either you let this nice man help and we go _home_ , or else we'll have to drive you to hospital, and _you_ _don't want that_ , now, do you?"

It was blackmail, pure and simple, and Paige could see the gears turn in Walter's head as he tried to find a loophole.

There wasn't one.

"… Fine".

"Good".

Toby patted his knee.

"The sooner you let the paramedic work, the sooner we leave".

* * *

Almost two hours later and they were finally back at the garage, with Paige carefully wiping the blood from Toby's forehead.

"Okay".

"I still don't know what it is, exactly, you do here, but... I'm glad you're here" He admitted, and she smiled, standing up to return the worryingly large first aid kit.

"You're welcome".

Happy smirked as she passed her.

"You could've left him in the building, you know. _I'd_ be tempted".

She shook her head at the mechanic's antics, before giving Walter an assessing look as she passed. He was half sitting half standing, one leg on the floor while the other remained tucked up underneath him on the table.

If there was one thing that she'd learned during her first few weeks here, it was that geniuses, for the _life_ of them, couldn't sit straight.

At least Walter was coherent now, whatever drug the paramedic had given him taking its course. The older man had wanted to take him to the hospital to be sure, but was quickly talked out of that idea by everyone with a 150-plus IQ. He was still in dust and soot-covered clothes and his shirt had a bloodstain on the collar from the cut at his hairline. Thankfully, however, according to Toby, head wounds tended to bleed a lot no matter how minor they were, and the scrape hadn't ended up being that serious after all. The smoke inhalation was more worrisome, but since his breathing had settled and he was no longer coughing, they deemed that safe enough as well.

* * *

"Can you get anything from your computer?" Cabe asked, walking over to him, but Walter shook his head.

"No, it's ruined. Blast destroyed and _shredded_ the hard drive".

The agent hummed.

"Meaning you risked your life for nothing?"

"I didn't know it wouldn't survive until _after_ I did it!" He protested, the scrape on his cheek standing out more than ever.

"And what's it that you're always telling me? _You only state facts?_ " He countered, "You told Happy you were right behind her".

"And I _was!_ I just… got slightly side-tracked".

"Yea, well, that _side-track_ of yours almost _killed_ you. What were the chances of your laptop remaining intact?"

"Gallo-"

" _Walter_. Probability. Now" He interrupted, "I know you ran one".

"… 14% chance it survived".

"You almost _killed yourself_ for a _14% chance?_ "

He groaned and ran a tired hand over his face, wincing as it pulled at the bandage on his forehead.

" _Look_ , you said it yourself. The thumb drive is dust, so he erased all the evidence that could tie Keeler to these bombings. He might be in custody _now_ , but he'll be gone by morning".

Cabe studied him for a minute before reluctantly deciding to let the matter drop. Sylvester had made his way over, looking just as exhausted and shaken as Walter was.

"What if someone knew that on December 17 Keeler and the U.S. Secretary of Defense had a meeting about illegal drone strikes in Pakistan and Keeler recorded it to use as blackmail?"

Walter smirked and slowly stood up.

"I'd say it's admissible evidence" Gallo said, "What- What are you getting at, son?"

"Sylvester was standing over my shoulder when the unencrypted file scrolled through" Walter explained, "He memorized the whole thing".

"It was almost 30 pages, though" Paige said in disbelief, "It only took a second".

"There are _a lot_ of incriminating things in there" Sly explained "... Dirty things".

"You're coming with me to Homeland. We're getting what you know down on paper".

Walter smiled, even as his headache increased.

Happy appeared at his side as the others rushed to get ready.

"You good?"

"Yea".

"Good".

They continued to watch the rest of the team.

"You?"

"Good".

"… Good".


	4. 4 Shorthanded

**4 Shorthanded**

"You cost me my job".

Walter groaned as Ronny grabbed him by the collar.

"I now regret that decision!"

"I hit the scotch" He continued, as if Walter couldn't smell in on him, "I got busted for public intoxication".

"To be fair, that parts your fault-"

"Let's see how my small hands look around your _neck!_ "

Walter panicked and tried to think of a way out of this. He could confuse the man, clapping or snapping his fingers would probably be enough to make him dizzy, but he had already caused enough harm to him and was reluctant to cause any more.

The grip around his throat tightened and he began to gasp for air.

Surely there was an officer watching the cameras in here, right? They were stop him before he got too far. They _had_ to…

But then again, they also thought he was a lying casino robbing serial killer, so maybe not.

Black dots started flashing before his eyes.

"-onnie!" He choked out, " _Stop_ , I can- I can 'elp!"

"Help?!" He snarled, "Haven't you already _helped_ enough?!"

With another growl, he loosened his grip and slammed him back against the wall. Walter groaned as his head hit cold concrete and the rough rock cut through his thin shirt.

"My hands still _too small_ for ya?" Ronny yelled, punching him solidly in the stomach.

He didn't even have time to catch his breath before another one followed, and Walter doubled over, trying desperately to regain control of the situation.

"No, I bet they ain't" Ronny continued, hauling him back up before backhanding him across the face, "No good Einstein, comin' in 'ere and stealin' my job!"

"Well, you know, actually, _stealing_ it implies that I took it _myself_ and-"

Another fist to the gut made his eyes water, but the older man's tight grip on his shirt collar prevented him from bending over to protect his chest.

Another punch, and another, then one final time before they both heard something _crack_.

* * *

Ronny let go of him and Walter collapsed to the floor, groaning and aching and trying to curl up tightly to prevent any more onslaught.

He got kicked for his troubles.

"Get up".

Another one.

"Up!"

Trying desperately not to throw up, Walter managed to get his left hand beneath him, then his right, and then he was half kneeling, half propped up against the rough wall.

" _Up!_ " Ronny snarled again, gripping his shoulders.

The second he was back on his feet, Walter thought _to hell with this_ and raised both hands.

"Apologies in advance".

Snapping his fingers, he moved them back and forth, hoping that the man was still drunk enough to get easily disorientated.

"I'm feeling sick".

Luckily for him, he was.

"I'm pulling your focus with my fingers" Walter explained, "Foreground background optical adjustments affected greatly when intoxicated".

Ronny started to sway.

"Thus causing the onset of spins".

He stumbled backwards and collapsed against the bench.

"Just take long deep breaths" Walter panted, joining him, "Oh _god_ ".

His head hurt from when he'd hit it, small cuts across his shoulders and back stung, and his entire midriff just ached. Most worryingly, however, his throat felt strangely numb and almost closed off.

"… I know you hate me, Ronny" He said, "But you're gonna have to keep your hands off my neck".

The older man turned to him.

"I can evaluate your skills, help set you on a better career path".

For a moment, he looked like he was going to agree.

And then he threw up.

What happens in Vegas might stay in Vegas, but the smell of vomit on his shoes was likely to stay with him for the rest of his life.

* * *

It took another hour or so for the ex-casino dealer to sober up, but once he did, they were on relatively good terms.

"I've been baking all my life" Ronny said, "I- I never thought that I could make _money_ at it".

"Well, follow the distribution and marketing schedule I gave you, and your scones will be everywhere" Walter finished.

"What's a guy like you doing in here?"

He couldn't help but smirk.

"A casino was robbed, I was framed, in a nutshell… I'm in real trouble, Ronny".

"Vegas will do that to you. Sad thing is, this is the _second_ time my hands cost me a job. I came out here to be a magician, but all the great masters all had long fingers so they manipulate the cards better… I could never get to the next level".

Ronny sighed and looked away.

"I loved magic. There's this one guy, Great Scott, he used to play in The Crimson, back when it was the, uh, Oasis Queen. He used to disappear from the stage and then reappear along the Las Vegas Boulevard. Blew my _mind_ ".

Walter's mind immediately started whirring.

"… That's _it_ " He said, jumping up, "When Great Scott did his show, where was his stage?"

Ronny stood up as well.

"Well, The Crimson was remodelled thirty years ago".

"That's before Connelly bought it".

"Yea, but I'm pretty sure the stage was in the northwest corner of the casino… They got a big storage room there now".

"That's how they got out!" He realised, "I need to get this information to my team".

"Sorry to tell you, but you're locked up".

"Not for long" Walter said, turning, "That rayon shirt is highly flammable, can you tear off the sleeve?"

"My aunt gave this to me".

"Tear off the sleeve, please, you're not going to get in any trouble, come _on_ ".

He walked over and grabbed the end of his sleeve, and between the two of them, they managed to tear it off after a minute.

"Come on, come on, give me… Okay".

* * *

Crouching down next to the toilet, he grimaced but forced himself to reach inside.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you" Ronny said helpfully, "What are you doing?"

He sat back down on the bench, his head spinning from that simple motion alone, and he took a second to regain his sense before starting to rub it against the metal.

"It has chlorine in it. Your pants, they got a metal button on them?"

"Yea…"

" _Yea_ ".

Ronny immediately raised both hands.

"I know we're in jail but I'm _not_ taking my pants off".

"No, I need the metal button. I need to rub metal on metal" He explained, "Create friction. Come on".

"… _Alright_ ".

Ronny sighed and stood up, reluctantly taking off his trousers so Walter could tear off the button. Adding it to the chlorine in the shirt sleeve, he quickly rubbed it against the cell door.

"Don't breathe in the chlorine fumes".

"What are you doing?"

"The fumes will warp the pins in the tumbler" He said, carefully keeping an eye out for guards as he shoved the bunch into the key hole, "Just listen".

There was a series of clinks before the cell door swung open.

Stepping out, Walter took a precious second to steady himself against the bars.

"Just say you were sleeping the whole time. I owe you one Ronny".

He shook his head.

"Not after that beating I gave you. We're even, okay? Just take care of yourself, Einstein".

* * *

He didn't pay any attention to the blockade of traffic and beeping horns as he ran and stumbled through the streets. He had to find the rest of the team, and fast.

"-sorry, I'm sorry!"

He abruptly stopped and turned.

"… Sylvester?!"

"Walter, you're _out?_ "

"Sylvester, you're _driving?_ "

He gestured ahead of them, "I have to- to get to the hotel for a Wi-Fi signal".

"Okay, move over, move over" He said, "No- Seatbelt, _seatbelt!"_

The younger man awkwardly shuffled over and Walter slammed the pedal to the floor.

"Okay, it went through" the radio buzzed, "Good job".

"Thanks, Happy".

"… _Walter?!_ "

He grinned and ignored the pounding in his head, the bone deep ache in his chest, and the strange numbness in his throat.

They still had a long way to go yet.

* * *

After all's said and done, he stopped in front of Gallo.

"So, uh, you're not gonna say I told you so?"

"Didn't say that, jailbird".

"Speaking of jail" Walter added, "I'm gonna need you to make a call to get one of my friends out".

"A friend in jail? And would this be the same friend who gave you that shiner on your face?"

He automatically reached up to touch the bruise spreading across his cheekbone, and grimaced.

"Long story… I'm gonna give him a cut of my pay, for a business he's starting".

Cabe studied him closely for a minute, before Happy's voice cut in.

"Any thoughts on how we're getting home?"

"I'd prefer it if we didn't fly" Sly quickly added.

"… _Fine_ " Gallo said, "Get in".

Walter purposely held back to be next to Toby.

"I am _so_ glad that my criminal informant managed to break this case open".

As predicted, Toby grabbed his arm.

"Woah, woah, woah, your _informant?_ " He demanded, "I was the sacrificial lamb that made it possible for Happy to get into Connelly's computer, not to mind _save everyone's life_ ".

He smirked and turned around only for Cabe to put a hand on his chest.

He tried not to wince as he pressed against sore ribs.

"Where are you going?"

"… _Home_ ".

"Well, I'm not driving for five hours listening to you kids argue".

"We're in the _middle_ of the _desert_ " He protested.

"There's a bus depot four miles west. I suggest you start walking".

"We barely have any money".

"Then I suggest you take on another private client".

Gallo's face revealed nothing.

"That's a joke, right?"

He started the engine.

"Really?"

They took off.

"… Okay".

* * *

Half an hour later and he's stumbling along the desert next to Toby.

"A woman hires us cause she wants to prove something to her dad, we take the job cause you want to prove something to Cabe, and I almost blow the job cause I want to prove something to _you_ ".

He pressed a hand against stiff ribs.

"Prove what?"

Toby shook his head.

"You want to know what the worst thing about what you said to me in that jail was?"

They came to a stop.

"You were right".

"Hey, come on-"

" _No_ " Toby pressed, "We're both too smart to pretend otherwise… I've been a screw up my whole life. Bookies and loan sharks, you've pulled my fat out of the fire more times than a fry cook".

 _We're were doing this now, then_ , Walter thought, with a pounding headache and sand in his eyes.

"You have your weaknesses and strengths, but you're an asset to the team".

"Yea, but I'm not talking about being an employee, I'm talking about being a _friend_ … All I ever wanted to do was be worth your effort, to show you that I could- that I could be _counted_ on the way I count on you, and... I can't do that".

"You zip-lined down a hundred-foot drop to help me tonight. That's a better friend than most people ever have".

Maybe it was the concussion talking, but he felt strangely more… _emotional_ than usual.

"You know what, you were right. When Cabe found me, I was a kid. He'd send me computer, codes to decrypt… I never really connected with my dad".

"And Cabe filled a void".

Walter nodded.

"So when he said I couldn't do something, it _bothered_ me. More than I realised".

They stared at each other for a minute, both comfortable with being uncomfortable together.

"… Well, I think we're out of time for this session" Toby announced and Walter smirked.

"Hey, I have an idea, how much money do you have?"

"Twelve bucks, why?"

The realisation slowly dawned on him and he shook his head as if in disbelief.

"You give me an _hour_ at the tables and I'll have first class airfare".

"Let's do it".

They grinned and started walking.

"I met some showgirls in an elevator-"

"Hey, focus!"

"I'm just _saying_ " Toby protested, reaching out and grabbing his hand as Walter suddenly stumbled, "Woah, you alright?"

"I… may have gotten into… a fight… in jail".

"A _fight?_ "

"… I got beaten up by an old drunk guy".

Toby burst out laughing.

"Seriously? Oh my _god_ , 197, did you just _sit_ there?!"

"Something like that" He reluctantly admitted as the Las Vegas lights shone overhead, "Any chance we could stop off at a pharmacy before you start playing?"

"I don't know if they'll be open. It's pretty late".

" _Great_ ".

"… You know, maybe those showgirls might have-"

" _No_ , Toby".


	5. 5 Plutonium is Forever

**5 Plutonium is Forever**

"Hey".

"Hey" Happy greeted, putting down the blowtorch.

Walter stopped somewhat awkwardly in front of her.

"I never... thanked you… for what you did for me back then, with Collins. Pulling me away from that darkness…"

"I didn't do it for a thank you" She said simply, "I did it because you're... my friend".

"I won't let you down again" He swore, and she nodded.

Glad to have the embarrassing feeling talk done with, he crossed his arms and smirked.

"So, uh, Toby going after Collins to protect your honour? What was all _that_ about?"

"The shrink's crazier than all of us. What a surprise".

He studied her for a moment, realising that there was more to it than that, but agreed to let the subject drop.

Turning around, he headed for his desk only to be distracted by Paige and Ralph as they carried in some shopping bags.

"Hey, everyone".

"Hey. Uh, did we have, uh, a meeting scheduled? I-"

"No. No, we just dropped by" Paige reassured, "Because even after you save the world, you're still all lost in thought, doing your own separate projects. Tonight, we have a _group_ project".

He frowned as she brushed past him and headed for the kitchen.

"Chicken piccata".

The others immediately began to converge at the mention of food.

"I don't think we have a chicken thermometer" Sylvester fretted, while Toby dropped his books, "Well, pizza would be more efficient".

"We're all going to get out of our own heads for a while and cook Italian" Paige said firmly, and he couldn't help but smirk, "Sounds fine".

She gave him an odd look before suddenly straightening up and stepping to the side of the kitchen.

"Can you just...?"

"… Okay" Walter said, bemused, but obediently following her out of earshot from the others.

"If you're trying me out to see if I work with this team-" She started.

"Paige-"

"If _that's_ what's happening" She cut through, "And it could end up being a failure and I could get discarded one day, just _tell_ me. I can handle it. But don't do it to Ralph. He's grown attached to the team... especially _you_... and I _don't_ want to see him hurt".

"You are one of us" He answered honestly, "We can't do this without you".

She immediately relaxed and he forced a smile.

"Good?"

Paige nodded, clearly relieved.

"Let's go cook some chicken piccata".

At the kitchen table, Happy was showing Ralph what to do with the raw meat.

"Measure twice, cut once".

"Can we talk about the so-called extra virgin olive oil industry?" Toby said, "Beaucoup _fraud_ ".

Ralph brought down the mincer with a loud thud and he ruffled his hair teasingly.

"Kid's a natural".

* * *

"Oh my god I'm _never_ eating again".

Happy shook her head at Toby's declaration.

"Yea, until we work through lunch and order from that place down the street".

He immediately perked up.

"Pizza?"

They all groaned and Paige lightly punched his shoulder.

"You know, I've been wondering about their sterilization techniques" Sylvester started, "And I'm _slightly_ worried that they're not-"

Walter made use of the distraction to silently slip out of his chair. Happy spared him a brief glance but the others thankfully didn't notice. Heading for the stairs, he took them two at a time and then shoved open the door to the fire escape.

The freezing air immediately cleared his head and he let out a heavy sigh of relief.

All through dinner he'd been distracted, thinking about the case, about Mark, about what he'd said.

About what _Happy_ had said.

Taking a deep breath and ignoring the cold, he kept walking until he reached the far wall and then leaned against it with his head in his hands.

* * *

" _How's your head? Are we on solid ground now?"_

" _I could ask you the same thing, Walter"._

* * *

He swore under his breath and tried to distract himself by listing the elements in the periodic table. Alphabetically. Backwards.

It didn't work.

* * *

" _He'd get in his head, erase his good judgment and forget we existed"._

* * *

This case had rattled him more than he'd like to admit. Mark was…

Well.

_Mark_.

There was a reason he had him committed, after all.

* * *

" _Part of me knows that I had Collins committed to see if other people could pull him from that place…"_

"… _In case I ever got to the point where I couldn't be pulled out on my own"._

* * *

The others, the rest of the team, they were… smart. Intelligent. _Incredibly_ so, but they still weren't on his level and they never could be. But Mark…

He was the closest that Walter had ever gotten to being understood.

Despite the numbers and equations that ran constantly in his head, despite the everyday struggle to connect to others, despite the code that flashed behind his eyes every time he fell asleep… all he wanted was to be understood.

And Mark had come close, had almost filled that void for a long _long_ time, until he felt like he'd suffocate without it.

Until he realised that as similar as they were, they still weren't the same.

* * *

" _You're actually worried about a man's life? That's not the Walter O'Brien I remember"._

* * *

He swore again, louder this time, and raised he head to stare up at the darkening sky.

He'd give anything to turn it off.

To just… cease existing for a little while.

To have the numbers and equations and code all vanish, if only for a brief moment.

To truly and genuinely just… _feel_.

Walter glanced back down at the street below him, cold and deserted with flickering street lights and abandoned cars.

To cease existing…

Before he knew what he was doing, he put both hands on the wall and swung himself up.

* * *

" _He and Walter would push each other and just get lost in the work. Theoretical algorithms for days. No breaks, no food, no sleep. They'd barely speak"._

" _Sometimes we'd lose Walter for weeks. It's called a savant dissociative state"._

* * *

He balanced precariously on the edge of the narrow ledge.

The wind was stronger up here, biting and cold, but the air was clear, crisp, and for a moment, just a brief miniscule moment, he closed his eyes, breathed in deep, and forgot himself.

No numbers, no equations, no code.

Just a freezing wind that cut through his thin shirt and ruffled his curls, brittle air that burned his nose, throat, and lungs, the sound of rattling iron sheets and distant car alarms…

_Peace_.

In the back of his mind, he heard Mark's voice.

_Just one more step_ , he urged, _one more step and you'll have eternal peace_.

One step and he'll get away, get out of this lonely life.

* * *

" _I'm going away. But I'll get out... Maybe I'll see you back down the rabbit hole, Walter"._

* * *

"WALTER!"

He jumped and spun around, losing his footing on the wall, and would have fallen if someone hadn't grabbed his wrist and yanked him back, _hard_.

He fell, stumbling to the concrete roof and landing half crouched half twisted with skinned palms and bruised knees and heart racing and adrenaline pumping through his veins and-

_Holy shit_ , he distantly thought, _I just almost died_.

"Walter? _Walter!_ "

He blinked, and familiar cinnamon coloured hair swam into view.

"Walter?" She asked, voice consumed by worry and fear.

He blinked again.

"… Paige?"

"Yea, it's me, what the _hell_ just happened?"

"I…"

He trailed off, slowly sitting up so he could back against the wall.

His hands were still shaking.

"Walter!"

"Uh, I just… I wanted some air".

"On the _wall?_ " She asked, her pitch higher in almost hysterical disbelief, "What were you _thinking?!_ Don't you know you could have _fallen_ or- or- or were you- you _hoping_ to? Or-"

"What? _No_ , of course not! I- I wasn't going to- to _jump!_ "

"Really?"

Her brown eyes bore into his own, intense and strangely… _scared_ looking.

"Really, Walter?" She repeated, "Cause that's what it looked like".

"I wouldn't- wouldn't _leave_ you like that. I wouldn't… I _couldn't_ do that to you, to- to the team, to _Cabe_ , I-"

He was startled to find his eyes burning, and he angrily reached up with grit bitten hands to ruthlessly scrub at his face.

"Oh, _Walter_ …"

Paige immediately leaned forward, sitting herself next to him and gently but firmly pulling his head down to rest against her chest. She was soft and warm and smelled vaguely like his mother and for some stupid ridiculous _human_ reason, that only made his eyes water more.

* * *

She shushed him quietly, hands running through his hair in a smoothening manner.

"You… You really _scared_ me, just now. I came out onto the roof, and I- I saw you standing there, on the wall, and all I could _think_ was…"

"M'sorry" He mumbled, burying his face in her stomach, "I don't… I don't know what I was doing".

"Well, are you… do you feel… better, now? Here?"

"I'm fi-"

" _Don't_ ".

Her voice was sharp and he felt her breath catch.

"For god's _sake_ , Walter, of _all_ times to use that- that _lie_ …"

Her breathing evened out once more, but he felt something damp hit his forehead at the same time she sniffed.

For a moment, it was silent. The wall they were sitting against stopped a lot of the wind, and the dying sun was almost warm as it started to sink below the horizon.

"Paige?"

She hummed, fingers still carding through his hair, her heart beat strong beneath his head.

"… I don't think I'm fine".

Her hands stilled, briefly, before she forced herself to continue once more.

"That's… that's not _good_ , Walter, but… it _is_ good that you recognise that… Thank you for telling me. I know it was difficult for you".

_In another life_ , he thought, _she would have made an excellent psychiatrist._

But then that just reminded him of all the shrinks his parents had sent him to, asking and prodding and demanding that he explained every single little thing he did because they couldn't understand, didn't draw the same results as he did, couldn't connect the dots that were _so bloody obvious_ -

"Do you know how long you've been feeling like this?" Paige asked, drawing him back to the present.

"… It's always been there" He admitted, "In the background. Just… _hovering_ , I guess. But after this case…"

"Seeing Mark Collins again?"

"… Yea. That was, uh… that wasn't very good. For me. For the team. For _anyone_ , really".

She hummed again, and the sound resonated through her chest.

"Happy and Toby told me a bit about it. About what it was like before, when he was still with you… Sylvester mostly just wanted it all to be over. He didn't want to remember".

"I don't blame him. It wasn't our best few months".

"But you knew that, you _saw_ what it was doing to the team so you fixed it".

"I did" He allowed, " _After_ the damage was done".

Paige sighed, "Walter… They don't blame you, you know. The others. They believe you did your best, because you _did_ ".

"… It's a curse. Being… _enabled_ like this. Always knowing things you shouldn't but never knowing when to shut up… It's difficult. It's _always_ difficult. Sometimes I could just _scream_ and I don't… I just want it to stop, you know? Sometimes? Just for… just for a moment or two, just enough to… to really _breathe_ again".

There were tears running down his face, but he wasn't sure if they belonged to Paige or himself. Maybe they were both.

"But it's never going to go away" Walter finished quietly, "And Mark… he _got_ that. He understood, more or less. The others all _try_ to, but… Well. I know they'll never understand fully. And so do they… Life goes on".

* * *

In the distance, they heard laughter and feet on metal steps.

"Hey, 197? Paige? You guys up here?"

The fire exit door opened with a loud bang.

"Yea, Toby, we're here" She called back, "We'll be right down".

Walter couldn't see him from where he was lying, but he could imagine the weird look the man was giving them all too well.

"… Alrighty then" Toby eventually replied, "See you in a few minutes".

The door shut again.

Walter breathed in the scent of vanilla and lemon juice one last time before reluctantly sitting up. Paige carefully detangled her hands from his hair and he immediately mourned the loss.

Leaning back against the wall, shoulders touching, he avoided her gaze.

His palms were grazed, his trousers were dusty, and he could feel warm tear marks running down his face.

But, overall, he felt… _better_.

Not… Not _good_ , exactly, but… but definitely not _as_ bad.

"Thanks" Walter said quietly, "For…"

He made a pointless gesture with his hands and she smiled and nodded.

"Anytime" Paige said, bumping shoulders with him, "And I _mean_ that, okay? _Anytime_ ".

"Okay" He replied, strangely content with the offer, "I… I promise".

Her smile widened at that, turning into a blinding grin, and he found himself smiling back.

"Right" Paige announced, jumping up and dusting off her jeans, "We better get going before they send up another search party".

He nodded and stiffly stood, groaning as it pulled at bruised muscles.

She frowned, "You okay?"

"… No" Walter replied, still smiling, "But I think I will be".


	6. 6 True Colors

**6 True Colors**

"I don't get it" Walter reluctantly said.

"Because the parrot has a hat on" Paige explained.

"Oh, that's funny" Toby allowed, "Uh, _technically_ ".

"It's funny _completely!_ " She protested.

"No. Break it down logically, bringing a parrot into a bar makes _no_ sense".

She rolled her eyes and looked away, and Walter glancee over at her.

"... You're disappointed".

"Just starting to see the scope of what needs to be done" She replied.

He… wasn't entirely sure if that was an insult or a compliment, to be honest.

Turning back to stare out the front windscreen, the Fun Guy logo as blinding as ever, he immediately noticed as a window was shoved open and a guy in a plaid shirt jumped out and rolled.

"In the meantime, I can still solve this case" Walter leapt into action, "Cut him off at the corner!"

"Okay" Happy immediately agreed, and he quickly shoved open the door and jumped out.

"I'll get Cabe!" Slyvester said, following him.

"It'd be faster to call him!"

Walter didn't stick around to find out what happened next.

"Hey! _Hey!_ "

Daniels didn't slow down once.

"Stop! _Stop!_ I'm a federal agent!"

He jumped a fence and Walter tried to follow, managing to scale the wire but failing to land safely. He hit the ground, hard, rolled, and jumped back up.

"Hey!"

He _really_ didn't enjoy running.

The suspect turned a corner and Walter mentally cursed and forced himself to speed up. If he could catch him, then he'd prove to Cabe that he was good at his job, that the team were good at their jobs.

He turned the corner and was faced with a long trash-riddled alley. Walter picked up his pace and ducked underneath a pink flowering plant.

He just had to catch him, that was all. Then they could prove that he forged the painting and that the painting was in fact a fake and he wasn't insane when he slashed it and-

A sharp dig in the side sent him spiraling forwards.

All breath was knocked from his lungs as he was shoved forcefully against the skip next to him, the metal impacting against his ribs and chest and arms and he barely had time to process it before strong hands were grabbing him by the shirt collar and throwing him to the ground.

A jagged piece of steel sliced open his hand on the way down, but he didn't have much time to process that either before he hit the ground, _hard_.

" _Hey!_ Stop-"

A steel capped boot smashed him in the chest, cutting off his pleas.

Walter groaned and tried to get back to his feet, but he got another kick to the stomach for his troubles. And another. And _another_. And-

Daniels took off running.

* * *

Blinking black spots from his vision, he tried desperately to remember what he was even doing.

Forged painting.

Suspect.

_Right_.

Cursing loudly and explicitly made him feel a bit better.

Stumbling to his feet, Walter steadied himself against the dumpster and took a second to get his bearings and trying his best not to throw up. His hand stung something fierce and when he glanced down, he found blood staining everything he touched. _Great_.

He didn't have time to stop now.

Breaking into a light jog, he tried to breathe through the pain and blatantly ignore how painful breathing itself was.

Turning the corner at the end of the alley, he saw their suspect a few meters ahead.

"Hey!" He called out again, "Hey!"

His head was pounding, his chest was aching, and his hand was bleeding.

He wasn't ever going to catch him at this rate.

But he had to. He had to catch him to prove to Cabe that-

_Cabe_.

He seemed to appear out of nowhere, stepping out from behind a bollard and firmly punching Daniels in the chest. He went down immediately.

Walter slowed to a brisk walk as he tried to regain his breath.

Gallo pulled the man to his feet and arrested him, just as a feather-covered van pulled up around the corner, a panicked Toby jumped out, and Slyvester appeared behind them in a Fun Guys t-shirt.

"I looked everywhere for you".

"Are those chicken feathers?"

"This is _all_ fixable".

* * *

"You spooked him" Cabe said, coming out of their make-shift interrogation room, "He won't talk. The FBI gave us one hour with him and we're at _zero_ ".

Walter kept both hands in his pockets, one grit-imbedded and the other still bleeding.

"That's what happens when a guy gets chased by a bunch of _weirdos_ in a van covered in _chicken feathers_ " He continued, "The FBI searched his house, his storage locker, his records, everything, turned up nothing. The painting's worth $100 mil. If he doesn't talk fast, we'll never see it again".

Toby nodded and stepped forwards, "Give me 30 seconds with him".

Turning, they watched as he entered the room and pulled the blinds, as dramatic as ever.

Cabe shook his head at the man's antics and turned back to the team.

"Start digging. We need to find out who this guy has been in contact with over the last few weeks".

They obediently split up, and Walter took the distraction to slip into the kitchen and dig out the first aid kit from underneath the sink. Bending down and straightening back up against sent trails of fire racing across his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut tight to try and block it out.

Opening the small red box with one hand wasn't too easy, but opening the roll of bandages was even _more_ difficult. Eventually he gave it and tore open the packet with his teeth, ignoring the disgusting plasticy aftertaste. Quickly unrolling the white fabric, he put it to one side before turning on the kitchen tap and shoving his hand under it.

He had to bite down on the knuckled of his good hand to stop yelping as ice cold water pierced through the wound that covered most of his palm.

Deep breath.

Except- _no_ , that hurt too.

Okay then, shallow breaths.

Turning off the tap, he steadied himself, before picking up the bandages and wrapping it tightly around his hand, awkwardly tying it in a make-shift knot to keep them in place.

A minute later and everything was back in it's rightful place.

He just hoped that no one would see the gauze on his right hand.

Returning to the main room, he was just in time to see Toby come back out with a huge grin on his face.

Time to get back to work.

* * *

"Jacques Labeaux. Real estate tycoon" Cabe started, "Friend of the mayor. He paid Daniels to forge the painting".

"Most of Labeaux's online accounts were impenetrable, but we discovered that he pays two electric bills, one for his main house and one for a separate climate-controlled room" Slyvester continued.

"It's a wine cellar" Happy said, but Toby shook his head, "No, that's not a wine cellar. Look at the electricity usage. It's a _huge_ room. Much more suitable for… storing _art_ ".

"Gonna have to trust Happy on this one, Toby".

"Trust me on _this_ , Walter" He countered, "We're talking wine, one of my specialties".

"Doesn't really matter right now" Cabe interrupted, "All we have is the word of an admitted forger. We'll never get a search warrant with that alone".

Walter's thoughts immediately turned to the _less_ -than-legal actions that they could take.

"I'll call in some favors and see if I can't get a wiretap, but that'll take some time" Gallo continued, "You hang tight until you receive further orders. I'll update you as soon as I have something".

"Okay".

_Not_.

"So Labeaux commissioned the fake, so we have to assume he has a real painting" Walter started, moving his coffee cup from side to side to draw attention away from his injured hand, "Chances are he's trying to move it. Any idea on his whereabouts?"

"Uh… I'm digging, I'm digging... Okay, got something!" Slyvester announced, "He's at home, preparing for a big charity gala tonight. _Guys!_ This is happening right now. He'll be hosting _hundreds_ of people, three bars, live music…"

"And us".

Paige quickly intercepted.

"Cabe told us-"

"Cabe is gonna cost us an opportunity" He cut her off.

"Are we really going to smuggle a painting out during a party?" Happy asked.

"There will be equipment coming in and out, trucks, commotion…" He explained, "The whole thing could be a subterfuge to try and smuggle that painting out of the country tonight. Now, Happy, Toby… you'll slip in, try and locate that painting. If you can't find it, then-"

He turned ever so slightly and a shooting pain seared through his chest.

Walter all but collapsed against the desk as a result, and forced himself to continue in the hopes that no one would notice.

"-we're gonna need all the details that we can get on Labeaux and his business , I'm gonna hack us onto the guest list. Try and get as close to Labeaux so we can clone his phone. Sly, you'll QB from the van".

"Without Cabe, we won't get the gear we need" Happy pointed out.

"And I have nothing to wear".

They all slowly turned to face Paige.

"I am not being a _diva_ " She protested, "I was a broke waitress six weeks ago. I _literally_ have nothing to wear for a fancy party".

Toby smirked, "I know someone who can help on both fronts".

* * *

Everyone jumped up and started rushing around to get their things together. Walter slowly straightened, breathing heavily through his nose and cursing himself as it only made things worse.

" _Sooo_ , would _now_ be a good time to talk about that?"

He startled, hand coming to his left side as he felt something jerk at the sudden movement.

Toby stood in front of him expectantly.

"Talk about what?"

He raised a solitary eyebrow, flickered his gaze down to where Walter was still pressing his hand to his waist, and then looked back up at him rather pointedly.

" _Really?_ "

"It's nothing" He tried to brush off, "Just a few bruises, that's all".

"Yea. More like a few bruised _ribs_ " Toby shot back, "I'm a doctor, 197, not to mind a psychiatrist. I notice these things".

"There's _no_ _way_ that you-"

"Seriously? It's in the way you move. Or, more accurately, the way you don't _want_ to move. And don't think I didn't catch a glimpse at the dirt on your shirt before you managed to brush it off either".

He scowled, "And what has _that_ got to do with _anything?_ "

"It was in the shape of a _boot_ , Walt. It wasn't hard to work out what happened".

He stared at the older man in front of him, and became consciously aware at how the rest of the team was slowly beginning to clue in that something was up between them.

Toby, of course, realised that too.

"Come with me upstairs, let me stitch you up properly, and I won't tell the others".

"That's blackmail".

Toby winked, "Only the best for you, dear".

* * *

Reluctantly, Walter headed for the stairs while Toby stopped by the kitchen to get the first aid kit.

_Which he actually knows how to use_ , he thought sardonically.

Happy gave him a questioning look as he passed but he merely shook his head.

They had a stolen painting to find, after all, and the mission came before anything else.

He collapsed in a solid wooden chair with a groan, and began to unwind the bandage wrapped around his hand. It had already bled through the white gauze, and he hoped that it wouldn't need stitches. Knowing _his_ luck, however…

"So, what exactly happened between you and Daniels?" Toby asked, jogging up the stairs towards him.

Walter shrugged.

"I chased him, he tackled me against a dumpster, and kicked me while I was down".

"And you _still_ ran after him?"

"We thought he was the thief" He said simply, "I didn't know that Gallo was nearby, and I couldn't see the van, so… I _had_ to catch him".

He hummed thoughtfully, unpacking the first aid kit and frowning at the haphazard way Walter had thrown in the bandages.

"And your hand?"

"Cut it on the way down. There was… a skip in the way".

" _Fun_. Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'dumpster diving'".

Walter barely refrained from rolling his eyes at the man's deplorable sense of humor, but that was only because said-man was now pouring a stinging liquid onto the wound across his hand.

"Ethanol" Toby explained, "Best antiseptic we have. Does it hurt to breathe?"

"... A little".

"Meaning a _lot_. Right. Where does it hurt?"

"Mostly my left side".

"He didn't kick anywhere else?"

"He didn't stick around for long".

Toby nodded and pulled out a sealed packet from the red box, ripping it open to reveal a strange looking clear material.

"Closure strips" He said, "I don't think you need stitches, but this cut _definitely_ has to be sealed. Especially if you're still planning on going to that party tonight".

"I am" Walter replied firmly, "The missions comes first".

Toby gave him an odd look even as stretched the adhesive strips over the wound.

"Okay, well, first of all, _no_ , your health is _far_ more important that any stupid mission, and second of all-"

He held up a hand as Walter tried to interrupt.

"- _second of all_ , I know you don't actually believe that, and we don't have enough time to get into it right now, but rest assured that I _will_ be coming back to this suicidal notion of yours at a later date".

"Can't wait" He said dryly, and Toby smirked, sticking the last plaster in place.

"Alright, that's good enough for now, just try not to flex your hand too much".

He nodded and gratefully pulled his arm back.

"As for your ribs…" He shrugged, "Well, I'm afraid I can't do much there. They'll just have to heal on their own. But if you hear anything crack, or you feel anything move, then you tell me. Alright?"

"Alright".

"I _mean_ it, Walter. Knowing you, you're not going to rest, but broken ribs can be dangerous and the last thing you want to end up in hospital, remember?"

He pulled a face and nodded.

"Good".

Toby started to tidy up the first aid kit.

"Now, that being said, we have a party to plan".


	7. 7 Father's Day

**7 Father's Day**

"Okay, Happy, see if you can get any gas out of that tractor" Walter ordered, "Paige, find her something to collect it in".

"You got time to fill me in?" Walter asked, sitting down next to him and flipping open his laptop.

"The farm was built in the '20s. Means old knob and tube wiring, so no grounding conductor" He explained, "Now, if I target concentrated micro-frequency waves, which this remote emits, to the second floor circuit breaker, then I can cause it to short out. But I will need an accelerant".

"Which I almost have for you" Happy replied.

"Even if we get a fire going to flush them out, they have _guns_ ".

"Then so will we. I have an idea" She said, pulling the wing mirror off the tractor, "Doc, come with me and bring your laptop".

They took off and Walter quickly set the controls to the right wave.

"Ok, I should be getting some short-circuiting and smoke through the circuit breaker by now" He said, "Can't take my hands off the remote control, so I'm gonna need one of you to throw that accelerant through the window. _Hurry_ ".

Paige picked up the jar and handed it out to Sylvester.

" _Me?_ "

"I couldn't hit a donkey's ass with a _banjo_. You played baseball".

"I played _right field_ " He protested, even as he reached down and found a rock to throw. It sailed through the air, and missed the house by a good five meters.

"... Are you serious?"

"As a Peek Frean".

"I _need_ that accelerant" Walter snapped.

"Sylvester, this is your chance to show your dad he was _wrong_ to stick you in right field" Paige translated into more human terms, "I _know_ you can do it".

"Come on".

"You can do it" She repeated.

He grabbed another rock, threw it, and-

_*SMASH*_

Bullseye.

"One more time, _go_ " Paige rushed, handing him the jar of gas.

"Okay".

With a grunt, he flung the bottle through the broken window and a split second later it burst into flames.

" _Yes!_ "

Sly clapped his hands and laughed as there came the sound of panicked yelling from inside the building.

Time to get out of here.

* * *

Running back towards the others direction, Walter could just about make out Toby doing a horrible 80s action movie accent.

" _Freeze!_ FBI! Drop those heaters before I put more holes in you than a salt shaker!"

They turned the corner, dashing around yet another pile of corrugated iron.

"If you're FBI, show yourself!"

_Shit_.

Walter skidded to a halt and glanced back.

"Who else is with you?"

Toby and Happy were in trouble.

"No one. Just us".

_*THUD*_

Walter froze before slowly turning back only to find Slyvester after knocking over a trash can.

"Show yourselves or your friends die!"

" _Walter_ -"

"Take Paige" He interrupted, "Go".

"We are _not_ leaving you" She protested, ignoring Sly's panicked, "Walter's the boss, okay?"

"You were right" He added, "Ralph needs _you_ to look out for him. Not a bunch of geniuses… Now go. _Go!_ "

He brushed past them and headed for the exit.

"Coming out! Unarmed!"

From behind him, he heard Sly take Paige's hand and run.

"Come on, come _on_ , let's go!"

Walter stepped around the corner and was immediately faced with the Russian thugs pointing semi-automatics at his head. Happy and Toby stood in a similar position two dozen meters away.

"Hey, who are you?"

"Federal agents" He tried, "You're surrounded".

The first thug swung his gun around, finger on the trigger.

"Nice try".

* * *

_*BANG-BANG-BANG* *BANG-BANG-BANG*_

* * *

" _WALTER!_ "

He blinked.

What was he doing on the ground?

A black beetle scurried across the dust mere centimeters from his face.

What was he even doing _here?_

"Are you crazy?! We'll shoot them inside, let the fire take care of the bodies!"

There was a strange… _burning_ racing up and down his leg and he couldn't quite remember why.

"Let's go!"

Cruel hands were on the back of his shirt, hauling him up by the collar and dragging him along the ground.

" _Move!_ "

The burning was getting more pronounced, but now he could feel something wet and sticky travelling the outside of his leg too.

Ahead of him, he saw Toby and Happy, both their hands raised in the air and fear on their faces as they stared back at him.

There was a man pointing a gun at them, and the sight of the weapon seemed to trigger something familiar in his mind but he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

The Russian thug led his team up the stairs along with the whizz kid that had gotten them into this whole mess. He slid open the door and gestured for them to enter the burning building, while the other gunman half lugged Walter up the steps behind them. Every time his leg thudded against the metal it sent pain shooting up his spine, and it wasn't until they reached the top of the staircase did the man let go.

He knew he had to escape, he had to get his team out of there, and he knew that these men weren't safe, but asides from that, the details were getting a little _fuzzy_.

He just had to wait for the right moment and-

"Drop your weapons!"

_Now_.

Walter jumped up, spun around, and punched the first thug squarely in the nose.

As he twisted, he felt something pop in his leg, and even the relieving site of Cabe pressing a gun to the other Russian's face couldn't distract him from the pure unadulterated sense of _wrong_.

"Don't move".

Black jeeps pulled up and soldiers in full tactical gear swarmed out.

" _Freeze!_ Let me see your hands!"

Toby slowly put back on his hat.

Gallo turned and smirked at him, "Look at that… you remembered to go for the nose".

He nodded, once, and that's when it all decided to catch up with him.

* * *

Walter swayed on the spot and then staggered back, one hand reaching out to try and steady himself while the other found its way to the bloody hole two inches above his right knee. He watched as if in slow motion as Cabe's smirk fell and he lowered his weapon, as Toby turned to look at him with wide eyes and made an abortive step forwards, as Happy was the only one to reach him in time and grab his arm so he didn't fall down the same stairs he'd punched that thug down.

* * *

And then, everything speed up again.

"Walter! _WALTER!_ "

" _Hey_ , 197, I need you to look at me, _look at me!_ Focus on my voice!"

"Someone find the damn paramedics _now!_ "

He blinked, strangely lightheaded and found himself sitting on the top step with an ever widening stain spreading out across his trousers.

"Walter? Can you hear me?"

He blinked once more.

"... There's a hole in my leg" He finally mumbled, "Why's there a hold in my leg?"

"Well, buddy, that's what happens when you get _shot_ " Toby replied, somewhat shakedly, shrugging out of his jacket so he could take off his grey hoodie and press it to the wound.

Yea. That made sense.

"Which one of 'em did it?"

On his other side crouched Happy, skin pale and face grim.

"Does it matter?"

"Guess not" He replied, still staring at the red that was now slowly but surely soaking through Toby's sweatshirt.

"I need you to stay awake, okay?"

Walter frowned and finally tore his gaze away from all the blood.

"Stay awake? But… But 'm not tired".

"Not yet. But you're slurring your words, 197. What's that a symptom of?"

"Brain injury" He replied immediately, "Stroke. Wilson's disease. Muscular dystrophy. Huntington's. Cerebral palsy. Brain tumor-"

"I'm thinking about stuff more _local_ " Toby interrupted, "Something that could affect _you_ ".

"... Well, a brain tumor could affect _anyone_ ".

He huffed an exasperated laugh and told Happy to find where Gabe had run off to. Turning back, he pressed down more firmly on Walter's leg and tried again.

"Okay, then what are common side effects of getting shot?"

"You're the doctor 'ere".

"And you're the _smartest_ here" He countered, "Or so you keep telling me. Come on, side effects, list them".

"Tissue damage" Walter reluctantly started, "Broken bones… Infections… Paralysis… Blood loss- _Oh_ ".

"Yea. _Oh_. And what are the symptoms of blood loss?"

His right leg was starting to feel strangely numb.

"Rapid heart rate… Weak pulse… Shallow breathing… Lightheadedness… Toby, I don't feel so good".

The older man swore, before wrapping his hoodie around the wound and tying it _tight_ , before grabbing his jacket from where he'd thrown it and using that to try and stop the bleeding as well.

"Just hang on, 197, and _don't_ go to sleep".

Sleep was actually starting to sound quite nice right about now.

Walter slowly rested his head against the cool metal sheeting next to him. The fire brigade had extinguished most of the flames inside, and as the sun started to set, he was getting colder and colder.

Or maybe that was just symptom five of blood loss kicking in.

He felt his eyes start to flicker and got a sharp jab in the ribs for his troubles.

"Stay awake. _Now_ ".

He groaned but reluctantly straightened up again.

He couldn't feel his leg at all now and wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He asked Toby.

Toby looked scared.

* * *

"Paramedics are almost here" Happy said, panting as she ran back to them, Cabe only a few feet behind, "How's he doing?"

"Not good. Where are the others?"

"I bribed one of the soldiers to keep them busy. Fretting about here and crowding Walter right now won't do him any good".

Gallo crouched down next to him, shades missing and worry in his eyes.

"Hey, son, how are you feeling?"

"... Weird" Walter replied, wondering if Cabe had a twin and if that twin was also sitting next to him, "Kinda… _floaty?_ "

"Help will be here soon" He said, "Just hang tight".

He nodded and slowly lent his head against the older man's shoulder.

He knew there was something he had to say to him, something _important_ about Percy and Baghdad and Ralph's father, but he felt like it could wait. His problems would still be there tomorrow, after all.

In the distance, he heard sirens, and Toby let out a not-so-subtle "Oh thank _god_ ".

Walter deemed it safe enough to close his eyes now.

A familiar arm wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him closer to Cabe's warmth.

"You're alright, son" He muttered, "You'll be just fine".


End file.
